Human or Hero
by Leona Leo
Summary: After choosing "The Needs of the Few", Queen Sparrow dies before she can find her sister. Years later, Rose's daughter Blythe sets out on a quest to find the rest of her Hero family and ends up in the middle of a revolution. Fable III. HIATUS.
1. And so our story begins

Hellooo~There.  
Fable III has gotten to my head... And I was a bit miffed that Ben Finn doesn't get any love. Also, where did all of the interesting spells from Fable I & II go?

I found that most of the fanfictions on here are PrincessXBenFinn, but I think they both would be bored after a while. I mean, Finn as King? That's a pretty scary thought. Hahaha.  
Thus, the creation of this beast.

SO IN THE SPIRIT OF RPG ONWARD.  
_(Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to anything Fable. I also promise that there is nothing Mary Sue about Blythe, so expect plenty of angst and conflict. The main story and plot of the game will not be affected by the existence of this character. Be sure to eat plenty of vegetables daily, and remember that milk is a good source of calcium. Ahem.)_

Fable is rated M, so my story is as well.

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"Find her... for me, Blythe."

An old, vein-covered hand weakly held a young, scarred one.

"I will, Mother." Her daughter whispered.

The dying woman raised her free hand with the last of her strength, and pointed a gnarled finger toward the small worn desk in the corner. Her vapid breath sent a small shudder throughout her frail body.

Blythe stood as her joints groaned in protest. Her boots left a resounding thud with each step as she stiffly made her way to her Mother's favorite side of the room. She couldn't feel a damn thing, not even the crinkle of the parchment as her dominant left hand blindly swiped it from the desk. She was too busy holding back the river of tears that threatened to cascade from her eyes.

At the time Blythe was not new to the process of death. Rose, her mother, had taken many husbands in her time, all of whom had been the burly, adventurer type. None of them lived very long due to their risky endeavors, but each had treated young Blythe as their own blood. She was always the overbearing daughter, asking for training and stories. In fact, her fathers were her only childhood friends. She found the village girls boring with their dolls and clean cut dreams of being average, mundane housewives.

It was assumed that all of the lovers Rose took were hearty attempts at replacing her first husband, Blythe's father Derrik. She struggled even more to hold back her tears as she let herself think of him.

Derrik was a lumberjack, and a fine one at that. He had long, dark red hair that he kept in a loose braid, bright forest green eyes, a stout build, and a decent amount of scruff on his strong jaw. He often traveled with his crew to find the finest grain of wood, fueled by the high demand Bowerstone had for quality and luxury. It was on one of these trips that his group came to rest in a small Gypsy settlement on the Eastern side of Albion's great mountains.

He did not expect to fall deeply for the leader of the settlement, a rough woman named Rose with sharp eyes and the blood of a Hero. But love, as always, had it's way.

Rose would fight off the occasional Balverine, Bandit, or Hobbe infestation. Otherwise, the town was generally quiet. She instead often used her Will abilities to heal villagers and help with general community chores (made easy thanks her inhuman strength). She was a force to be reckoned with, and the best Chieftain the Gypsies ever had. Men saw her as an equal and treated her as such.

Derrik had taken a nasty fall from high in a tree and found himself limping into the modest cabin of the young healer. When he first laid eyes on her, he realized that he could never leave the small hamlet. It didn't help that one look from the gruff man made Rose weak in the knees.

Her mother would often tease him and say, "He was such a prat, you know, when we first met. Compensated for his height by being as loud as he could manage. Always whipping his braid around and shaking the trees with his laughter. Don't marry a git like him, Blythe. You'll get gray before you can blink twice."

Her father would be sitting nearby in his favorite chair. Upon hearing his wife he would develop a huge grin, so large that his eyes would wrinkle at the edges.

"Oi Lass, you know I make up for it in many, many other ways. Just because I'm a foot shorter doesn't mean I'm not a foot long-"

And her mother would always cover her ears at this point, nag her husband, and grin just as big as he did.

Her childhood memories were full of the stories her parents would tell her. Most often, they were tales of the great Heroes. Her favorite story, however, had always been of her mother's death and resurrection.

Rose would describe the bright blue light, and she could always recall the vision of her sister perfectly.

"And then I woke up here, in the care of the previous Chief. I sent a letter to your aunt as soon as I was able, and some day Blythe, some day she will reply. Then we will be a full family again."

But their family would become even more broken than Rose realized.

A lone tear ran down Blythe's cheek.

Derrik's death had supposedly been quick. The pack of Balverienes was the largest the community had seen in a century, and he had given his life in order to lead the beasts into a deadly trap.

Rose was devastated. Blythe wasn't quite old enough to completely understand it all. She immersed herself even deeper into the stories, in an attempt to distract her young mind from the loss of her father.

"_So Momma, I'm a Hero too, right?" Young Blythe asked excitedly, gripping her mother's skirt as the woman finished yet another story about her ancestors._

"_Yes Baby, you are."_

_Blythe's Little face became troubled as she twisted it in thought._

"_But what about Daddy?"_

_Rose's eyes would always tear up at the mention of him, but her mother never faltered._

"_Sometimes love, it's not blood that makes a Hero. It's also actions and decisions that make someone great."_

_For comfort, her mother lifted Blythe gently and held her tightly, letting soft tears fall into the child's crimson hair._

"_Your Father was more of a Hero than I could ever wish to be." _

For years, Rose attempted to fill in the gap that Derrik had left, allowing herself to become infatuated with the occasional handsome vagabond. Over the years, however, the heartbreak became too great.

Eventually the woman gave up.

When Blythe came of age, Rose began focusing on marrying her daughter off in the hopes that she would settle down with a much more stationary man.

These attempts failed miserably.

Blythe inherited her father's hair, her grandfather's sea green eyes, and her mother's fire. Her curves and heart shaped face attracted them at first, but she would always best them at something or another and scare them all away.

Eventually Blythe gave up, chopped off all of her hair, and focused on helping her mother in every way that she could.

Actually, she remembered that day fondly. Her mother had helped her cut it down to the point that it was short and wavy, but lectured her the entire time. They both decided to leave a single long lock in the front with her bangs, in memory of her Father. At the moment, its tip rested at about her navel, and she often wore it as a braid with beads and ribbons.

The men really stopped paying attention to her after that.

And time went on. Her mother grew old.

Eventually Blythe became the head of their small family, and even perfected hunting. She earned the title of "Hunter" in the community, but did not run for the position of Chieftain so she could take care of Rose as she aged. Blythe grew to be a strong young woman.

The community eventually moved on and forgot their Heroes.

The two became outcasts, but were satisfied with the company of each other.

And now... Now her only family was about to leave her.

Her Mother's groan tore her out of her thoughts. Blythe immediately returned to kneel at Rose's bedside, her heart beating fiercely in panic.

"Blythe" The woman whispered. "My time is ending. Take the map. You've got... you've got to find..."

Rose's dry lips opened and closed, but her breath had run out. She struggled to inhale again.

"I will Momma, I will."

Blythe's tears were flowing freely now. Her mother's worn hand gently lifted to her cheek.

"I... I'm going to give you something." Rose smiled with tears in her eyes.

A thick pressure grew inside of the room.

Will markings began to form on Rose's body, emitting a soft blue glow throughout the room.

Blythe closed her eyes as her markings came alight as well, shimmering on her face and arms.

The small objects on the shelves started to rattle. Suddenly, a bright light burst from their bodies and filled the entire house.

Outside, a small group of still faithful villagers had gathered. The windows shattered, forcing them to duck into safety. The whole house shook violently for a few moments, but then suddenly, everything became still.

This gift of experience was the last blessing that Rose could bestow upon her beloved daughter.

Inside, she sighed as her body began to shut down. Blythe's body heaved from her silent sobs. The power ran through her veins like fire, and her markings felt like they were being forged into her skin.

The smile remained on Rose's face as she observed her daughter with clouded eyes.

"I finally get to be with your father. Don't cry for me darling. I love you."

Blythe fought for control of her body and managed to nod her head in response.

Both of their Will marks slowly began to fade away as Rose's eyes slid closed.

Blythe brushed away her mother's pure white hair as a few of her tears fell onto the dying woman's face.

Rose whispered her final words as Blythe kissed her forehead.

"Find... Sparrow."

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Woah, sorry if I depressed you.

Seriously though, what Hero doesn't start out with some kind of emotional trauma.

I promise it gets better from here. :)


	2. After the Storm

_Long chapter ahead!_  
_I didn't want to drag on Blythe's travels, so I smushed it together..._  
_Notes at the bottom of the page! :)_

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"Do you think they're both dead?"  
"Horace, I need you to come on home, the chicken is getting cold."  
"Whatever happened it's done now."  
"Mum I want to go see!"  
"All the same. They were a creepy lot anyway."  
"Come off it Betsy, a Hero just died. Your sodding chicken can wait."  
"Mum I want to go see!"  
"Show some respect, all of you! It's not everyday that-"  
**SLAM!**  
The crowd fell silent.  
Blythe stood in the doorway of the cabin. You could say that her glare would have killed the small group of Gypsies huddled in the front yard, but that would have been an understatement.

"My mother is dead. I'm burning the house along with her. Leave."

Her bloodshot eyes stared at them as they sped away, and she didn't blink until they were no longer visible.  
She allowed a tight lipped smirk to flash across her flushed face as she realized how horrible she must look at the moment. Covered in every item of clothing she had owned, along with some of her mother's, Blythe's general thickness had doubled. A large pack was nestled underneath her cloak full of a bit of gold, Jerky, Canned apple slices, a few health potions, the map Rose had given her, and other necessities. She would have brought the supplies to make more potions as well, but frankly she was rubbish at it so it wasn't worth the effort. Rose was the only one in town with a talent for Alchemy.

A sickly satisfied feeling spread through Blythe's body when no tears were shed at the thought of Rose. She must have run out.  
At least that part of this entire ordeal was over. Now she just had to leave...  
Any time now...  
She was going to march straight out of this Avo-forsaken town and fulfill her mothers last request...  
Leave and never come back.  
Nausea began to swirl deep in her gut.  
Blythe had never gone very far out of the settlement's territory before. Her huge fur boots shuffled in a thin layer of snow. Flurries started to drift down from the sky.

"Come on, you beast," She murmured to herself, " Get your tail out from between your legs."  
With a shaky breath, she managed to make it to the dirt road in front of her lifelong home. A few still moments passed as she stared at the shattered windows. The wind picked up and slammed the front door shut again.  
She hissed to herself,"That's your cue, then. Go for it already." With a sudden burst of resolve, Blythe narrowed her eyes and removed her left glove. She raised her open palm slowly, and a large ball of fire burst to life in the center of it. Hastily, she flicked her wrist and the flame flung itself straight through a destroyed window. Blythe winced as she heard it crash around the house. Her fire began to roar as its magic intensity consumed the entire building.

"Rest in peace, Mother. I promise to find our family, no matter what."  
She numbly turned her body towards the setting sun, and made her way down the path, refusing to look back. It was going to be a long night.

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According to the map, another settlement that her community used to trade with was just on the opposite side of the mountain. Unfortunately, the road meant to connect the two involved a colossal bridge. And as with most bridges in Albion, Blythe found it destroyed to the point that it was completely unusable. To make matters worse, night had already fallen.  
The snow had reached a good eight feet at that altitude, so she was able to form a small burrow out of it with a bit of fire. She sat inside and began to chart her new route.

Derrik had given Blythe three things in his lifetime. A pipe, a journal for her to write her own story in, and (in his will) his prized axes. They were beautifully crafted*, identical, and smaller than average. They were also light enough to carry in each hand. Needless to say, she had practiced with them daily since his death, and effortlessly left a trail of destruction in her wake whenever she used them. Her secondary weapons were a dagger on her right thigh, and a pistol on her left.

As for the pipe, she only smoked it to relieve stress. Tobacco was often expensive anyway, so she couldn't make a habit out of it even if she wanted to.

The Journal was mostly full of scribbles and bits of her thoughts. Blythe never really found herself interesting enough to encompass an entire story, so she settled on filling the book with her mind instead. At the moment she was attempting to calculate how long this new path was going to take. She scribbled into the book with a piece of charcoal, then threw the items away in frustration. Blythe knew she didn't have enough food to make the trip, but she had to at least try. It wasn't like she had anywhere else to go.

A wolf's howl sliced through the crisp air. Her head snapped in the direction of the sound.  
Remaining completely still, she listened. There was nothing for a few seconds, until the soft patter of many paws could be heard outside of her dwelling.  
Her hand shot out and began to fumble through her bag, searching for the handle of one of her weapons. Panting could be heard right outside the entrance as a soft whine sounded nearby.  
At that very moment, the small fire Blythe had created as a source of light became weak from the lack of her attention and went out.

Everything was still.  
Blythe's breath came quickly as her fingers grazed the handle of one of her axes.  
She couldn't see a thing.  
Suddenly, teeth tore into her right boot, barely grazing her ankle. Blythe tightened her grip on the axe as the beast swiftly drug her out of the small hole, despite how much she was flailing. Once outside, Blythe let out a snarl as she used the last of her Will, sending out a wave of pressure that flung most of the pack a few feet away. Blythe smashed her heel into the snout of the wolf gripping her boot and blindly swung her ax to the side. A sickening crunch sounded as the weapon collided with another wolf's skull, killing it immediately. The other wolf released her foot and lunged at Blythe's neck, forcing her to release the axe and wrestle the creature on top of her. She managed to fling it aside and retrieve her weapon, then with a unnaturally quick movement she planted the blade into the chest of another wolf about to leap at her.  
Blythe's eyes had now adjusted to the dark, and she made quick work of the rest of the pack. Once it was over, she stood breathing heavily, surrounded by corpses. Her right ankle shook under her weight, it must have taken more damage than she thought.  
"Of all the sodding things," Blythe hissed through her gritted teeth, "It had to be wolves."  
She let out a string of curses as she stumbled back into her burrow.  
Shakily, Blythe tore some of the fabric off of one of her many shirts and hastily wrapped her injury. Thanks to her heroic healing abilities, she wouldn't have to deal with the pain for very long. The wound had already begun to tingle.  
With the adrenaline still pumping through her veins, all of her senses were going haywire. There was no way she would be able to sleep that night. She sighed.  
"Fan-fecking-tastic."

Blythe began to pack up her things in the dark. She didn't have any Will left to create another fire. The only way she could replenish it would be to either sleep, or simply wait for it to recharge.  
Unfortunately patience had never been one of Blythe's strengths.

Instead of sitting in the dark and waiting for herself to heal, which would have been the safer option, she crawled out and slowly got to her feet.  
"The sooner I get to civilization, the better," She thought. "No use sitting around here and feeling sorry for myself."

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It had been six days. Blythe had run out of food and potions on the third.  
The sunset beat down onto the perfect snow, reflecting off of it and nearly blinding her with its intensity.  
Blythe hadn't felt weaker in her entire life, and it unnerved her. She felt numb and light-headed, unable to form a solid thought without hunger pains stabbing through her abdomen.  
Sleep had been difficult as well. She was far too paranoid to properly rest.  
Blythe's eyes began to blur from sheer exhaustion. She blinked desperately in an attempt to restore her vision, but eventually gave up and settled on shuffling forward like some kind of hollowman. Her legs continued to carry her on with a determination and purpose she didn't even understand anymore.

Twilight fell, and the wind began to speed up. A particularly strong gust threw her off balance, and she fell face first into the snow. Blythe struggled to stand, only managing to get to her knees.  
It was then that a figure appeared in front of her.  
The woman stood staring down at her, shrouded in a mostly red dress with a large hood covering her face. Through the shadow of it Blythe could make out two empty eye sockets, staring into her soul.

"Greetings Blythe."  
Blythe blinked a few times, deciding that she was obviously hallucinating.  
The woman reached out a hand as if she was going to help Blythe stand.  
Blythe hesitated, but took it.

There was a flash of light, and she found herself in an entirely white expanse. The cold was suddenly gone. A strange pulse throbbed around and throughout her body.  
The mysterious woman stood a few feet in front of her.

"Who the bloody hell are you?"  
"I am Theresa, the Seer of the Spire. Listen to what I am about to tell you.  
You Blythe, are a Hero.  
There is a great conflict arising... However, it is not your destiny to face it."

Blythe contorted her face in confusion. "Then... Why are you telling me this?"

"You will be given the chance to aid the savior of this land.  
Take it, and you will finally be part of something greater than you have ever dreamed.  
Ignore it, and you will be more alone than you can ever imagine."

"I don't give a damn about any conflict. My quest is to find the Hero known as Sparrow and discover why my mother and I were abandoned by her. Albion is none of my concern."

"The Hero Queen Sparrow is no more."  
"W-What?"

"The choice is yours to make, young Hero. It is in your blood."

The light grew brighter, as Blythe felt herself being pulled out of the vision.  
"Wait, what? Oi!" Her protests turned into a scream as she began to fall, the white fading into a rushing night sky.

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Blythe's eyes sprang open and she found herself lying flat in the snow again. "What was that..." she grumbled as she held her throbbing forehead.  
Night had returned, and the wind was even more freezing. Blythe breathed deep and examined the area to get her bearings. Something she saw made her gasp.

A cluster of lights shone farther down the mountain, nestled among the cliffs and trees.  
Desperate energy grew inside of her, and she fumbled to her feet. In a rush of euphoria and immense hunger, she blindly began to sprint directly towards the camp.  
It was too late when Blythe realized how steep the terrain was, and began to tumble down the mountainside. Blythe let out a loud curse as she slid down the slope, occasionally smacking into various bits of rock and bouncing off of trees.  
She came to a stop a small distance from the camp, close enough that she could smell the fires and hear bits of conversation. Groaning, Blythe attempted to move her bruised and scratched body, but failed miserably.  
In a stroke of delusion, Blythe burst into laughter before succumbing to velvety darkness.

* * *

The Cock in the Crown was bustling with life.

Major Swift Had given his men a final night of freedom before they shipped out to Mourningwood. Many of the men didn't understand the grim truth of their placement and were bustling with excitement. Every soldier looked forward to the trip, anticipating fame and glory.  
The party was in full swing, women flung their arms around any flush soldier in their reach, hoping for a one night stand. The group went through ale like water, their inhibitions thrown into the wind with the knowledge that Swift would pick up the evening's tab.

Upstairs at a small table, Ben Finn and Major Swift sat apart for each other.  
A grim cloud hung over the two men.  
Swift sat with one leg crossed onto his thigh. Cradling a large glass of wine in one hand, he took vigorous puffs of his pipe with the other.  
His eyes rested on Ben, who was sitting hunched onto the table with a bottle of whiskey at his elbow, glaring at his shot glass.  
Swift had just finished reading a bit of Ben's autobiography at the man's request. Now the two sat in absolute silence.

"Mourningwood!" Ben suddenly spat out. Swift's mustache twitched.  
"Indeed." The Major answered.  
Finn took his shot with ease and went to pour himself another as he spoke.  
"I've been to Mourningwood, Swift. Barely lasted a night there. And that's where we'll be stationed until further notice?"  
Ben Finn downed another shot and returned to glaring at the glass, his eyes narrowed to slits.  
"It seems as though," Swift answered slowly, "King Logan wants to be rid of us. However, there could possibly be a legitimate reason for his decision. Unfortunately I am unable to question the King in my position. We'll just have to make do."

Ben grumbled something unintelligible and reached again for the bottle of whiskey.

The pub fell silent as the voice of a private drifted upstairs.  
"A toast mates, to Major Swift! Long live the Swift Brigade!"  
The group roared in response.  
Ben Finn let a crooked smile grace his handsome face at the sound. He raised his eyes to study Swift.  
"At least," Ben shouted over the noise, "We have a good group of men going with us."  
The Major's face appeared blank as he glanced over to the staircase, but Ben could see the turmoil in his mentor's eyes. His smile quickly faltered.  
As if sensing his change in demeanor, Swift turned his attention straight to Ben, and gave him a small grin. "Yes, good men. The best."  
He nursed his wine and began to stand. "Well Ben, I believe you should find yourself a lady friend for the night. You won't be able to acquire that sort of company where we're going. Best to take advantage before it's too late."  
As if on queue, a buxom brunette sauntered drunkenly to the table behind Swift and plopped into a chair, gazing slightly cross-eyed over at Ben and batting her eyelashes. Ben Finn raised his eyebrows and shifted his gaze back to Swift, who was now grinning bemusedly back at him.  
"Ah yes," The Major chucked. "Tally ho, then. I'm off to meet Walter before we leave."  
Major Swift smoothly gulped down the rest of his wine, and made his way out of the pub with a flourish. In an instant the brunette was nestled into Swift's empty chair, leering at Ben from the other side of the table.  
"'Ello there, Sexy..." she cooed. "Hows about I buy you a drink?"  
Ben Finn threw on his huge, charming grin before taking one last shot. "I believe I'm all set, love. Why don't you 'ave some of this whiskey on me, and we'll get to know each other better."

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*Blythe's axes are basically smaller versions of the Master Axe in Fable II, except with dark green handles.

_Thank you all so much for reviewing and watching! I appreciate it!~ This is my first fanfiction that I'm taking seriously. I have an Inception one sitting around here, but I don't really know where I'm going with it. _  
_Anyway, just for you lovely people, I included some pointless Ben Finn. x) He doesn't get to meet Blythe for a few more chapters sadly..._  
_Also, If you laughed at Blythe's misfortune, it's okay. You're supposed to. She's a bit of a klutz, isn't she? Haha_

THANKS FOR READING! :D


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